The Little Things That Matter Most
by authoressnebula
Summary: Post 5x16: Dean thought he'd seen all of Sam's perfect moments. Finding out he didn't, and that he missed a pivotal one, leads to not only trying to get a certain object back, but also trying to make things right with Sam.


_A/N: This is just my take on things from the episode: I have a variety of theories as to why Dean dropped the amulet, and this is only one of them._

* * *

The room was just the same as any of the other rooms they'd stayed in. Or maybe it wasn't. Dean didn't know, didn't care. It was kinda hard to care about anything at the moment. Considering the disaster that Heaven had wound up being, it was really hard to believe in _anything_ now.

Sam didn't even bother shrugging off his jacket, just tossed his duffel onto the chair near the farthest bed and turned right back around. "I'll, uh, get dinner," he said, his hesitant voice a complete contrast to his swift movements towards the door.

"Go ahead," Dean said, dropping his own bag...somewhere. "Wouldn't want to keep you here any longer than you have to."

The sharp inhalation told Dean he'd left a mark and hurt Sam, but at that point, he really didn't care. Heaven was four days earlier and he still couldn't shake it, this...funk he'd had ever since. Things had been bad, sure, he'd known that. Things had been really bad.

But now that God was out of the loop...well. Didn't seem a lot of point.

And finding out your little brother's idea of Heaven involved everyone else except Dean...

"Yeah, okay," Sam said, voice low and hurt. Dean simply stood where he was, eyes locked on the wall ahead of him, until the door opened and shut quietly behind his brother. Only then did Dean move to sit on the bed. His fingers slid towards his cell phone, and a part of him wanted to call Castiel. They hadn't seen or heard from the angel since, and really, Dean couldn't care about that either, except...

Except that Sam had mentioned him on their last drive. Wondering how Castiel was. If he was okay.

Dean pursed his lips. At least he was feeling something now: anger. At God, at Castiel, at Zachariah, and at Sam. Definitely at Sam. His idea of Heaven was just staggering. That's what made the kid happy? Seriously?

Call Castiel. That's what he'd do: call Castiel. It beat glaring at the wall and feeling angry at Sam. He pulled his cell phone out and dialed the angel's number; familiar as could be.

The four rings it took before the angel answered were not. _"Yes, Dean."_

The "You okay?" came out unbidden, but Castiel sounded so...destroyed. It made Dean want to wince.

Little bit how Sam had sounded all of yesterday. Or just now when he'd left, and Dean bit his lip hard. He wasn't going there. He _wasn't_. Sam had shown his true feelings.

"_I am...I don't know. I'm lost, is the best way to describe it. At least, that's what Sam said."_

Back up. "Sam said? He called you?" Dean demanded.

"_Yesterday. He was concerned," _Castiel said, though he didn't sound upset that Dean hadn't been the one to call. _"I insisted that I would be fine, but he refused to hang up until I answered his questions."_

Always the rat terrier, his brother. Wouldn't let go of anything. It almost made Dean want to smile.

And then he realized that his brother _had_ let go of something very easily, let go of Dean, and Dean forced the anger back in place. If he didn't, the little part of him that was left would ache worse than it already did. The realization that the night Sam'd left for Stanford was one of the best in his life had already broken something inside of him. Dean's Hell was Sam's Heaven.

"Did he help?" Dean forced himself to say instead.

"_In a sense," _Castiel admitted after a long pause. _"He was sympathetic to a father who doesn't care."_

"Says the guy who walked out on his family," Dean muttered. God, if Sam really felt that way about them, why wasn't he gone already? Why hang around Dean, of all people? The guy nobody wanted, and if he closed his eyes, he could still see his mom standing in front of him, glaring at him, _hating_ him. His eyes felt like burning, leaving him blinking rapidly.

He took a deep breath, trying to figure out the best way to answer Castiel. God knew (and wasn't that a funny saying now?) that Dean had knowledge of how crappy dads could be; he couldn't deny that. But to say that now, when Sam was the one throwing away the family, felt wrong. "I'm sorry Heaven didn't pan out," he said instead.

Castiel was silent for a long moment. _"At least you and Sam had some happiness first," _he finally offered. Silver lining in a thunderstorm. Probably picked that up from Sam too, because Dean definitely didn't have that now. All he saw was the thunderstorm.

Still, he couldn't stop the snort of bitterness. "Yeah, loads. I got to see Sam fondly recall all the times he didn't have with us. It was great."

"_But he was with you," _Castiel said, and at least he sounded something different than empty. Now he just sounded confused.

Dean sighed. "The Heavens, Cas. Sam's Heavens. All the memories he had, none of them included me or Dad."

"_I understood what you meant, but he was with you," _Castiel insisted. _"In fact, he was so deeply engrossed in the Heaven with you that I couldn't reach him. The television in the motel room was simply shut off each time I tried."_

Wait a minute. "No, the Heaven I found Sam in was his Thanksgiving with some girl and her family," Dean said, a frown forming. "That's where he was."

"_Before that, however, he was with you," _Castiel said. _"It was a small room, and you were young. Very young. Sam was giving you something, wrapped in newspaper. It was intended for your father, but Sam insisted it go to you instead."_

Christmas. The Christmas Sam had found out. "That was his idea of Heaven?" Dean sputtered, his mind still trying to play catch-up. "That night was a suck-ass night! Sammy found out about hunting, cried himself to sleep, then had to deal with opening stolen presents. That was the worst Christmas ever, and _that_ was his idea of Heaven? There wasn't anything good about..."

Except there had been. Sam had given him the amulet, and he remembered taking the necklace and putting it on with reverence. How Dean had taken his saved, but still paltry, seven dollars and brought Sam to the small diner and bought him the stupid chocolate chip pancakes. The change he'd given Sam to do whatever with, and Sam had insisted on playing a two-player arcade game with him. They'd played for hours, random people from the diner coming up and giving them extra change to keep going.

Instinctively his hand flew now to his chest, and the lack of the amulet felt wrong for the first time in a long time. He'd gotten sort of used to it being gone, and then he'd had no time to think about it. Things had never really been right between him and Sam since Heaven, though, and he knew that stupid amulet was why. And it shouldn't have mattered so much, because it was a dumb-ass necklace in the end.

Except that it meant everything between them. They'd grown closer after that Christmas, with Sam finally understanding what was really going on, and Dean insistent on protecting him from it all. They'd become best friends that night, closer than brothers.

And he'd deliberately held the amulet over the trash can, longer than necessary, long enough to catch Sam's attention, before dropping it in. Dean winced now even when he'd wanted to hurt Sam at the time. Hurt Sam as much as he'd gutted Dean with Sam's three Heavens. Every Heaven without any sight of Dean, and they'd all killed him in some manner. He'd just wanted to hurt Sam.

He had. The problem was, Dean was pretty sure he'd hurt Sam far beyond what Sam's Heavens had done to Dean.

"_Dean?"_

Dean swallowed hard. "I need you to do something for me," he said, voice gone rough. "That necklace, the amulet-"

"_I returned it to you."_

"Yeah, well, I dropped it somewhere," he said, and he felt hollow at the memory. God. No wonder Sam had been walking around sounding eviscerated ever since he'd done it. For all that Dean claimed that Sam was the one who always left, it was Dean who continued to shove Sam away.

"_Dean?"_

Not any more. He felt more alive now than he had before, more with it than he'd been since Famine. He'd felt something, a lot of something, when Sam had gone down under the shotgun blasts, and his anger surged in a new direction. Swear to god, if he ever found Roy and Walt-

"_Dean!"_

"I need you to get it for me," Dean said. "You can track it, right?"

"_Yes."_

Thank god. Well, maybe not God, and the sayings were gonna be really hard to let go of. Another day, he'd deal with that issue. Not now. "Good. Find it as fast as you can and then bring it to the-" He didn't even know what motel they were in, let alone what state. He hadn't even cared, but now, suddenly, it all mattered. He scrambled to find the card the motels always put on the dresser. "-Westland Inn. Room Twelve, down at the end of the-"

Castiel suddenly appeared right in front of him. "Hall," Dean finished. "The amulet first, _then_ come find me."

"I was tracking it," Castiel explained. He looked weary, but he wasn't hunched over like he had been before. He seemed more alert now, too. Much more than he had before, which meant that whatever Sam had talked to him about had helped.

God, _Sammy_.

Then Castiel's words registered. "Wait, what? You tracked it to here?"

Castiel nodded absently, mind obviously focused on something else. He began to wander around the room, stopping in random places, before he'd turn his head and move somewhere else. Dean watched him go, closing his cell phone as he did. The hell was it doing here? Dean hadn't taken it-

And then it was so obvious that Dean's chest tightened even before Castiel stopped in front of Sam's duffel. Sam hadn't been more than a few seconds behind Dean, which meant-

Which meant he'd dived for the trash can and pulled it out immediately. Wouldn't let it stay in there a minute longer than he had to. Dean's fists curled as he fought to swallow around the knot in his throat. Making it up to Sam was gonna take some time and some serious amount of work.

If Sam would give him the chance. Because now, in hindsight, dropping the amulet meant so much more than hurting Sam. It was throwing away their being brothers, essentially tossing Sam into the trash with it. And he hadn't really meant it like that. He'd been so frustrated and devastated and so goddamn _hurt_ that his first Heaven had been with Sammy, and _none_ of Sam's had been with Dean, and now he knew that wasn't true. Sam's first Heaven had been about Dean, too. Had been about the stupid amulet, and that made Dean's action even worse.

Even if Dean had never found out about that first Heaven, though, he was remembering the rest of what had happened in Sam's Heavens. Like how that Thanksgiving had had Dean laid up in a hospital bed, and how he'd all but tossed Sam out the door so the kid wouldn't spend Thanksgiving in a miserable hospital chair next to Dean. How Sam had been given a pie by the mother and a kiss by the girl, and he'd managed to get a slice of pumpkin goodness in to Dean while Dean had cheered for the kid's first smooch.

Or why Flagstaff had happened in the first place, because Dad and Sam had had an argument, and when Dad had stormed out, Dean had told Sam that he was a selfish sonuvabitch who didn't know what it was really like out in the world, and how Sam had to train or he wouldn't make it on his own. How Sam wasn't any help to any of them and needed to shape the hell up and stop freakin' fighting with Dad all the time. So Sam had left to prove it to them all that he could, and he had.

And he remembered now what had happened after Dean had found Sam, which had been for Dean to hug the crap out of his brother and whisper an apology. Hadn't even gotten angry at him, so happy that the kid was all right and alive, and of course Sam hadn't known how angry Dad had gotten or how upset Dean had been with the both of them. They'd only been relieved to find Sam.

Stanford Dean still didn't understand, but just to even get out of the oppressive house after _that_ fight would've been divine. And a scholarship, _full ride_ to Stanford...that was something most kids could only dream about, and Sam had freakin' done it. Yeah, that deserved to be a Heaven. Even if it still cut deep inside of Dean.

But it wasn't like his own Heaven hadn't hurt Sammy, too. He'd seen it on the kid's face, the tears in Sam's eyes. And Dean had ignored him in order to have his own time with his mom for just that one second more. Sam hadn't begrudged him the time; he'd asked to go, but he'd respected Dean's wishes. Like Dean hadn't done for Sam in any of his Heavens.

God but Dean was a dick. He'd taken all of Sam's happiest memories and squashed them. And he should've seen that it still mattered, that _he_ still mattered, because the most important place in there, the Garden itself, had been a botanical garden, one of Sam's stupid school trips, and they'd taken it together, with Dean acting as chaperon. That had been one of the best days shared between them, and how had Dean _missed_ that?

Castiel stood from the duffel, and Dean could see the amulet hanging from his fingers. Instead of tossing it as he had before, Castiel walked over and let it slide into Dean's waiting palm. The weight felt familiar and cool in his hand, instead of a burning reminder like it had the other day. It felt _right_.

The door opened and Dean quickly closed his fist around the necklace. Sam stepped in with two bags, one in each hand. His eyes widened slightly when they caught sight of Castiel. "Hey Cas," he said, giving a soft smile. "How you doing?"

"Better," Castiel said, and even offered a small smile of his own. "Thank you."

Sam's smile grew a little more genuine at that. "You, uh, were gone for awhile," Dean mentioned with a tiny grin. Time to keep Sam's smile where it belonged. "Where'd you go?"

Dean's intention and words fell flat as Sam's smile slid away. "Greek place I noticed when we came into town," Sam said, turning to put the bags on the table. "It was a little further away than I expected, sorry. I wasn't leaving," he added, voice near to a whisper.

Greek: Dean's favorite. The knife in Dean's gut twisted even further, and he winced at the almost physical pain. "I know you weren't," he hastened to add. If Sam believed him, he made no notice of it.

"There's extras if you want some," Sam said to Castiel. "Dean likes the gyros but there's a little bit of everything. Here," and he moved towards the chair that held his duffel, presumably to get Castiel a seat. He caught the handles of the duffel to lift it up, and Dean watched as Sam paused with the bag in the air. It only hung there for a minute before it was moved to the bed, and Sam turned to frown at them both. "Why's my bag open?"

"Needed something out of it," Dean said. Sam's brow became even more furrowed, leaving Dean no choice except to hold the amulet up from his fingers. He gave a grin as he did it, not entirely sure of what Sam's reaction was going to be. Surprised, then happy? Surprised, then angry?

Neither, as it turned out. Sam's face went blank right before he swallowed hard. "Give it back," he said, voice low and face still empty. Furious, apparently. Not just angry. His voice was even shaking, he was so enraged.

It was Dean's turn to swallow. "No," he said, keeping his own tone calm and firm. "I should've guessed that you'd pick it up, and believe me, I'm-"

"_Please_ give it back," and Sam's face twisted suddenly in...desperation? He held out his hand, palm up in a silent plea, and he wasn't angry, he was _scared_. Terrified that Dean was going to do god knew what with it, and Dean had to swallow hard again.

Subtle wasn't going to work now. "Grateful," Dean finished quietly. "I'm grateful that you picked it up. Because calling the motel and bugging their cleaning lady, especially after the bloody mess we left for her, wasn't exactly something I wanted to do."

Sam's pleading gaze slid into something so lost and bewildered it hurt to see. "I don't understand," he said softly. "What...?"

"Dean called me to seek it out," Castiel explained, thankfully jumping in. Sam's confused gaze only crinkled more, lines seemingly etched into his forehead permanently, and they'd been there awhile. Ever since the fallout from Zachariah, Heaven, and God, Sam had been carrying all three of them. Castiel had fallen off the radar, and Dean had tossed in his hat. It had been Sam who had moved them from place to place, Sam who worried about Castiel, Sam who tried to tell Dean in little ways that he wasn't leaving, even when Dean pushed and prodded him to do just that.

Sam had been taking care of them all. It was time for Sam to be the one who was carried.

Sam was still looking confused, so Dean took charge again. "I called him because I wanted it back," he said, drawing Sam's attention from the angel. "He traced it to here. In your bag."

Sam shrugged like it didn't matter. "Thought maybe you'd want it back someday," he said quietly. Yeah, right. The earlier look on Sam's face told what a lie his words were. He hadn't dreamed of Dean asking for it back.

Not like Sam was ever going to say that out loud, though. "Well, you were right," Dean said instead. He moved until he was right in front of Sam and offered the amulet up in his palm. "Unless you really want it back. You can have it, if you do, and I mean _really _have to have it, but...I kinda want it back."

After a long moment of staring at it, Sam tentatively reached out towards Dean's palm. Dean blanched: he'd been expecting Sam to tell him he could keep it. He hadn't thought he'd hurt Sam that much, but apparently his little brother's trust had not only been shaken, but broken. He kept himself still while Sam lifted the amulet from Dean's fingers.

Sam carefully held the leather cord open as far as it would go, then moved his hands up. Relief flooded through Dean and he closed his eyes, letting Sam put the necklace back on. It was stupid and all sorts of chick-flicky, but god if it didn't feel good to have the amulet back, the weight heavy and familiar and _right_ against his chest. He glanced down and caught the glint of gold against the gray of his shirt. He glanced up and caught Sam's eyes, already smiling.

Sam smiled back, but it was small and brittle, and as soon as he began shifting his jaw Dean knew the kid was two seconds away from crying. "Sure you want it back?" Sam managed, trying to make it a joke but falling flat.

Already deep in chick-flick territory anyways, and Dean owed his brother for this one. He moved too fast for Sam to back away from and had his arms wrapped around his brother before Sam could squawk out a protest. Sam froze completely in Dean's embrace, as if afraid that moving would do something. Dean merely held on, refusing to let go.

After a long moment, the silence leaning towards awkward, Sam hesitantly brought his arms up. His touch was light, like he was afraid he'd spook Dean, and Dean tightened his own grip. Message sent. Not two seconds later Sam's touch went from ghost to firm, clinging back just as hard.

Message received.

The smell of the Greek food wafted through the air, catching Dean's attention. His stomach's, too, as it turned out, and when it rumbled Sam gave a small chuckle and stepped away. "Food'll get cold," Sam said. This time when he smiled, it didn't look as forced. Still not as solid or as happy as it was when he'd encountered his friendly pup, or when he'd help light up all the fireworks.

Dean would get it back, get his brother to genuinely smile again.

"I could eat," Dean agreed. One quick glance told him that Sam had probably bought one of everything from the menu, in the hopes that something would catch Dean's interest. Food hadn't done that, lately.

He shifted his gaze back to Sam and watched his brother's eyes dart from Dean's chest to his face. Reassuring himself that the amulet was still there, and it made Dean want to cringe. "You ever had Greek, Cas?" he asked instead.

Castiel gave a small reminiscent smile. "Many years ago. Their dinner parties were something incredible, I'll admit. Socrates made for an excellent orator, even when drunk."

Sam blinked. "Awhile, then," he finally said, and Dean grinned. "They've, um, changed their food up a little bit since then."

"In that case, I'll try it," Castiel said, taking the vacated seat. "Do you need help preparing?"

"I got it," Dean said quickly, even as Sam shook his head. Sam frowned, confused again. "You got plates, Sammy?"

"Um, yeah," Sam stammered, leaving Dean confused until he realized what he'd said. He hadn't called him Sammy in awhile. Thought of the word, yeah. Spoken it to Castiel even, sure. But to Sam, he hadn't.

Time to change that, too.

They worked side by side in silence, opening wrappers and popping the lids on dishes. The aroma was tantalizing, for the first time in a long time. Guess all he'd needed was a kick in the ass from his dormant big brother side, something that was dormant no longer.

"What, uh, made you change your mind?"

Dean was pulled from his thoughts by the soft spoken words. When he didn't answer right away, Sam nodded towards the amulet. "You wanted Cas to find it," he added. "So..."

"Remembered a few things," Dean said, digging in the bag for the plastic utensils. "Like the pumpkin pie you brought in for me that Thanksgiving. Or why you left for Flagstaff in the first place."

Sam was nodding slightly with each one, shoulders coming down with each word Dean spoke. When he didn't continue, though, Sam's brow furrowed again. "And...that night?" he asked carefully.

Time to man up. "You're allowed to have your own Heaven, Sammy," Dean said, voice quiet. "It was a hell of an accomplishment, dude. You deserved to have a night that was all yours."

Sam snorted loudly. Dean whipped his head around, surprised, and caught Sam smiling sadly at him. "You really don't remember, do you?" he asked softly. "What you said that night...it mattered to me. A lot."

And whether Sam's words reminded him, or whether Dean remembered on his own, the rest of what happened that night came back in a rush. Sam flying out the door, head held high and bag over his shoulder. Dean hurrying out after him, finding Sam in the middle road, looking nine types of scared and ten types of awed. Racing up to Sam and hugging him in the middle of the abandoned street at night, wanting to tell him he was proud of him, that he loved him, that he deserved this chance even if he broke Dean's heart doing it.

And all he'd said was, "Let me give you a ride to the bus; don't want you to miss it." He'd tried to say everything in those few words. Tried to fit it all in, hoping that Sam would hear it.

Sam had heard it all just fine, apparently.

Dean blinked himself back to the present and found Sam pulling out the paper plates. His hand came up and caught a hold of Sam's shoulder, causing Sam to pause. When he finally met Dean's gaze, Dean squeezed his shoulder. "I still mean it," he said. Not that Sam had any reason to believe him, or to even guess at what Dean meant, but it still needed to be said.

And just when Dean realized that his words might be regarding it being the worst night of his life, not about what he'd said that night, Sam gave another smile. "Thank you," he said, voice soft and a little choked up. Guess he'd figured it out.

Only after Dean had figured it all out for himself, but they were back on the same page. That counted for something.

His eyes strayed down to the amulet that hung against his chest. It counted for a lot. God was taking the longest sabbatical known to anyone, Lucifer and Michael were hot on their trail, hunters were ready to take potshots at them, and the world was trying to get a first class seat to Hell.

Dean was still hard pressed to care about it all.

"It smells almost as good as the hamburgers did," Castiel said. "My vessel, Jimmy, apparently thinks that Greek food is good."

"Yeah, well, we'll monitor and make sure you don't eat too much," Sam assured him. "I think you'll like it, though."

This, though. This he cared about, and he'd almost thrown it away. Never again.

They still weren't right, either. Sam's trust had been shaken just as Dean had begun fully putting his trust and faith back into Sam. They were still a little broken.

But they were better. They were still together, still Team Free Will, and more importantly, Team Winchester.

"You'll like the gyros," Dean said, snagging a plate. Sam's eyes slid from the amulet back up to Dean, and Dean gave him the most genuine grin he could. While Sam's returning smile wasn't nearly at the magnitude Dean's was at, it was still there.

Yeah. Team Winchester was there to stay, and Dean was gonna make damn sure it did.

END


End file.
